Second Chance
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: "I think I'm still in love. Why did we ever break up, Artie? Me and Matt?" "You were being yourself."  In which Alfred tries to win back Matthew who is still pretty bitter about being dumped in the first place. Alfred/Matthew
1. Chapter 1

Pairing: Alfred/Matthew (but not quite...)

Warnings: language, OOCness, stupidity, slash, AU

Disclaimer: I don't deserve to own Hetalia.

* * *

"Who is that?" Alfred asked, mouth agape (and half-chewed cheeseburger in sight for everyone to see) and blue eyes wide. A bright pink blush dashed across the bridge of his nose.

"Charming." Arthur muttered, expression twisting in disgust. "And who's who?"

"The blonde." Alfred breathed, pointing with his half-eaten burger across the grassy field.

"You're not even supposed to be eating during practice." The British teen snapped, tightening the ties on his shorts. "Fat bastard."

"Damn, she looks fiiiiiiine in those shorts." The other blond whistled, purposely dragging out the compliment.

Arthur rolled his eyes, throwing a vaguely wistful look at the ball waiting next to his feet. Football used to be an escape for him.

But then Alfred decided to join the team.

Bloody twit wasn't even particularly good at the game. And, worse, he didn't even call it by its blessed name.

Soccer? Pure shite, that name.

The American didn't even take it seriously. Every goal he shot was offside and he kept screaming "Touchdown!" whenever the team scored. When they lost, he blamed the ref and then quit the team (only to show up again four practices later). The only reason he doesn't kick Alfred off the team is because they've been friends for years and he knows that Alfred doesn't mean any harm and that he does try his best from time to time. He's just an idiot.

An idiot who is now too busy salivating over some leggy harlot to even consider practicing. Arthur scoffed, threw one last glance over at Antonio who is skillfully dribbling circles around Willem while Francis, the useless ponce who quit the team in an overly dramatic and tearful show before crawling back, watched with a languid grin as Gilbert cheered on his Spanish friend from the goal. Then he finally decided to see to who the poor student was that was being subjected to Alfred's catcalls.

The person in question was fairly slender with wavy golden hair. Shorts that hugged her body and a faded t-shirt, the girl seemed to be ignoring Alfred's attempts at getting her attention.

"Are those space pants, baby? 'Cause your ass is out of this world!" Alfred hollers, face brightening with the light of a million megawatts when the pretty blond whirls around, seemingly having enough of the loud attention, and begins to stalk towards them.

By this point, the rest of the team has noticed what is happening and is gathering around with wide grins hoping to see Alfred put in his place by a pretty girl. Again.

As the blond comes closer, Arthur realizes three things.

Firstly, the she is not a she so much as she is a he.

Secondly, it's not just any blond boy. It's his younger cousin—his favorite cousin Matthew who is finally moving back after moving away to some frigid frozen wasteland who's name escapes him (…Canada…Vancouver, specifically).

Thirdly, Matthew looks like he's out for blood.

Alfred, Arthur can't help but note with no small sense of satisfaction, is fucked.

* * *

When Matthew finds out he has to move back to the States for his final year of high school after two beautiful, blissful years back in Canada, he seriously oscillates between outright killing his self and burning his family's passports and travel documents but instead settles on playing Rush as loud as possible and purposely burns his parents' pancakes during breakfast.

When he finds out he's going to the same international school as his older cousin Arthur, he calms down a bit and decides not to run away and join Cirque du Soleil. But when he learns that Alfred F. Jones is going to be there as well, it takes the combined force of his parents, the movers, his neighbors, every member of the hockey club, the fire department, and several members of the RCMP to persuade him not to jump off his roof.

(He's still writing thank you cards to all the people who prevented him from becoming a bloody stain of teenager.)

(In return he's received dozens of cards thanking him for not jumping to his death because it would have incredibly troublesome to clean blood and limbs off the clean sidewalk and its bordering grass and flowers.)

Alfred F. Jones is an arrogant, idiotic, self-centered, narcissistic, sexy, brilliant, overconfident, selfish, dumb, childish nutcase who broke his heart.

So when he hears that familiar voice call out, signaling him out from the rest of the ice hockey team as they begin conditioning on the track and shamelessly hit him, he resolutely ignores it and just shrugs helplessly when Tino looks at him, his face soft with concern.

"Sometimes if you ignore him, he shuts up." The kind boy says as his boyfriend, Berwald, grunts in agreement.

"But sometimes he just keeps going." Ludwig mutters, throwing back a handful of aspirin and grimacing when he sees his older brother wave madly at him and blow him kisses.

"—Your ass is outta this world!" And then Matthew freezes, a dark flush rising on his face as the words sink in and he feels anger—anger because Alfred has clearly moved on and he's still pining for the moron and anger because Alfred has zero shame or tact—and he turns on his heel and heads towards the teenager who looks like his birthday came early.

And Alfred is still as handsome as before. Big blue eyes and neat blond hair brushed out of his face, the older boy still oozes charm and has the aura of 'boy-next-door'. His million dollar smile is as brilliant as always and Matthew has to remind himself of how many times thinking of Alfred has reduced him to a depressed blob and driven him to chug maple syrup straight from the container just so he won't melt into a puddle of blushing incoherency.

Finally he stops just a step away from Alfred and ignores the team watching in interest.

"Hello Arthur." He says, a pleasant smile on his face that only widens when Alfred looks shocked that his sexy blond has a deeper voice than he expected and is lacking tits and looks somewhat familiar but he can't quite place where he's seen this quietly seething boy…

"Matthew." Arthur nods, smirking.

And Alfred looks like he's been punched in the gut. "…M-mattie?" He whispers, half-surprised and half-hesitant. He takes half a step back, but Matthew moves faster and grabs the other boy by the collar of his shirt and tugs him back towards him so he can look Alfred in the eye.

"Matthew." He corrects gently. "And please refrain from harassing me."

"Harassing you?" Alfred looks affronted. "I was just complimenting you—"

Matthew cuts the other off with a quick punch to the stomach. The blow knocks the air out of Alfred, causing the blond to curl in on himself and gasp. Smile not slipping for a moment, Matthew lets Alfred go and watches as the blond drops to the ground.

"It needs to stop." He says, voice wintery. Alfred groans in response, twitching slightly and Matthew takes that to mean that Alfred understands. "Thank you kindly." He chirps, throwing one last smile at Arthur and 'accidently' stomping on Alfred's hand before jogging back to his team who looks incredibly impressed by the unimpressive blond's actions.

Squatting next to his friend, Arthur sighs and asks, "You alright there, git?"

Alfred looks up, sky-blue eyes focused on Matthew's retreating figure. "Better than alright." His voice begins to sound dreamy and he lovingly strokes the area where Matthew struck him. "He's back and he's still as sexy as ever."

"…I suppose he's decent looking." Arthur shifts, uncomfortable about discussing the attractiveness of the boy with whom he once bathed.

"I think I'm still in love. Why did we ever break up, Artie? Me and Matt?"

"You were being yourself."

"…Yeah, that was stupid of me." Alfred grins dopily. "Think he'll take me back?"

* * *

It turned out Matthew wasn't interested in taking Alfred back. Well, he surmised as much judging by the way Matthew dumped a carton of milk on Alfred's head when the American dropped to his knees in front of the other teen during lunch break.

"You dumped him." Arthur explained calmly, turning the page of the novel he was reading. He really wanted to finish _Pride and Prejudice_. It was just so good…

"I thought he'd come back to me!" Alfred whined, milk-covered head dropping to the table. "Cosmo said he would!"

"And instead he moved away." Arthur noted, vaguely wondering where it was exactly Matthew had been living and trying to remind his self why he was ever surprised that Alfred was a poof-the teen often swore by Cosmopolitan and Vogue. "How does it feel to have a plan backfire that badly?"

Alfred pouted, puffing up his cheeks and looking away.

"Oh and I think that milk is starting to curdle." Arthur sniffed pointedly at the foul smell emanating from soiled hair and turned the page. "Go sit somewhere else."

"You're being so mean, Iggy!"

"Well, you do smell."

* * *

"He just broke up with me out of the blue!" Matthew ranted, swinging his hockey stick down viciously. Making contact with the puck, he sent the black disk hurtling towards the net. "No talk, no explanation. He just said 'we're done' and walked off slurping a goddamn milkshake." He threw his stick across the ice, watching it shatter, violet eyes raging. "A. Goddamn. Milkshake. That fuckin' _hoser_."

"What a dick!" Matthias shouted helpfully from where he was hiding behind Anders in an attempt to stay clear of the smaller player's wrath. The rest of the team nodded vigorously, huddling in the far corner of the rink.

Ivan was the only one not keeping his distance. Instead he skated by, a cheerful grin on his face, and said, "I could set Vladimir on him."

"Vladimir?"

"My bear." Ivan explained in a creepily happy voice. "He has not eaten in days."

Matthew eyed the taller boy nervously, secretly terrified by the Russian.

But he still files away the suggestion, thinking it might actually come into use.

* * *

"This is why you can't have nice things." Francis sniffs, looking away and tossing his lustrous blond locks over his shoulder after he listens to Alfred's Tale of Woe.

Arthur nods in agreement, taking a sip from his thermos of Earl Grey, still engrossed in his novel.

Alfred makes an odd whining noise in the back of his throat, sounding somewhere between a puppy with its tail caught in the door and a dying giraffe. "C'mon, Frenchie! I came to you because you're good at this kinda thing."

Francis suddenly brightens, chest puffed in pride. "That is true. I am a genius when it comes to _amour_—"

"You know how to trick people into having sex with you!"

The Frenchman visibly deflates, shoulders hunching over as he launches himself at Arthur and wraps his arms around the man's shoulders and hikes one leg over the green-eyed man's lap. "Do you hear how he speaks to me?" The older teen asks, rubbing his stubble-covered cheek against Arthur's face. "I am hurt."

"Pity." Arthur grumbles, disgruntled, his furry eyebrows twitching as he shoves Francis's face away with one hand before the kissing starts.

"Sorry to interrupt your foreplay." Alfred snaps. "But I'm trying to win back my boyfriend."

Arthur manages to dislodge the clinging blond and smacks him in the face, for good measure, with his novel before pouring his steaming tea on the other's crotch. "You're not going to win him back by tricking him into a shag." He says absently, watching Francis writhe in pain on ground. "One. That is my cousin. Two. That plan has legal ramifications."

"Well, then what's your bright idea?"

"First get him to stop hating you." Arthur looks thoughtful. "Then court him again." He glares at Alfred, green eyes sharp. "But be sure to get him to tolerate you again."

"Right!" Alfred has a slightly manic grin on his face when he runs off and Arthur vaguely wonders if he should alert campus security.

* * *

"This is not what I had in mind." Arthur muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I meant you should talk to him, explain yourself, grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness…"

"But this is much cooler!" Alfred explains brightly, shifting the enormous boom box above his head. The blond is dressed in torn jeans and a white t-shirt (with an enormous mustard stain, the Brit notes with no small amount of distaste) under a baggy, beige jacket with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Peter Gabriel is blaring from its speakers.

The two teens are standing on the steps leading to the ice rink where the hockey team usually practices. Right now the team is suited up, staring at the pair in silence.

_In your eyes_

_The light the heat_

_In your eyes_

"I am compleeeeeteeee!" Alfred sings, off-key but enthusiastic and heartfelt. Arthur gives him points for that.

Matthew looks horrified, a vivid scarlet hue rising on his face.

"Maybe he doesn't like John Cusack." Alfred says sounding surprised when Matthew doesn't come running towards him, arms outstretched. "It's a good thing I have a back up plan."

Reaching up, he presses a button and soon Celine Dion is caterwauling from the speakers.

_For all those times you stood by me_

_For all the truth you made me see_

Matthew looks like he desperately wants the ice to swallow him up and Arthur feels a surge of pity for the boy. He doesn't deserve the idiocy known as Alfred F. Jones.

"I love you Matthew Williams!" Alfred shouts, holding up the boom box with one hand as he blows kisses towards his object of affection.

Suddenly Matthew whirls around and skates away, hopping over the boards and disappearing into the changing rooms.

The entire team watches their newest player (and hands down favorite) flee before slowly turning and glaring at Alfred with dark expressions promising hours of pain.

Alfred, the oblivious fuckwit he is, doesn't notice the pure malice being directed at him and is too busy staring at the way Matthew escaped with lovelorn eyes. But Arthur has no desire to die to the sound of Celine Dion, so when he sees Berwald and Matthias leading the team, he grabs Alfred by his shock of blond hair and hisses, "Run you bloody Yank!"

* * *

Ahahahaaha, IDK. I just wanted something happy and crack-ish. It started out being Matthew trying to win Alfred back but then I thought "Naw, I like tormenting Al too much" and then I cackled madly and started writing. To be clear, Matt and Al dated their freshman year of high school and broke up near the end. Matt then moved back to Canada for two years and is now back for his senior year. Al did something stupid and Matt is pretty bitter. Hell, I would be too. This will probably only be a few parts. Depending on the response, I might not update this quickly too. But we'll see~

Anders = Norway

Willem = Netherlands

Matthias = Denmark

Let me know what you think. Please and thank you. So yes, I will get back to work on my other stories now... -trudges off-


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, this received a far better response than I expected. :D Thank you to everyone who wanted to see me continue this and is following this. I hope you enjoy this new installment.

Pairing: Alfred/Matthew (kinda)

Warnings: AU, stupidity, song lyrics, OCCness, overprotective!hockey team, dysfunctional relationship dynamics written by someone who can't hold onto a boyfriend, Justin Bieber, stupidity, crack, more public humiliation (sorry Matt... OTL)

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Justin Bieber

* * *

"I just feel so bad for him." Tino said thoughtfully, examining a shiny red apple with critical eyes. "Matthew likes red, right?"

Berwald grunted in affirmation, neatly spreading mayonnaise on a slice of white bread before delicately placing two slices of cheese, two slices of turkey, one slice of tomato, followed by a crisp leaf of lettuce. Nodding in satisfaction, the giant teenager topped off the sandwich with another slice of white bread, before deftly slicing off the crusts and then cutting it in half.

"He doesn't like tomato, Berwald." Tino scolded, looking at the sandwich fretfully. "What if he doesn't eat it now?"

Berwald blinked slowly, face darkening as he contemplated his boyfriend's words. Then he said sagely, in a low voice, "He n'ds th' antioxed'nts."

Tino sighed and placed the apple on the tray. "You're right. He's a growing boy."

Neither boy cared about the fact that Matthew was only a few months younger than them.

"Alfred just won't leave him alone. Matthew can't keep punching him either. At this rate, he'll be suspended." Tino grumbled, as the two teens continued down the lunchroom line, trying to decide what Matthew would like for lunch. "Cake or pie?"

The two just stood there, genuinely stumped.

"G't b'th." Berwald said finally. "B'ttr s'fe th'n s'rry." He grabbed a slice of each and added it to the tray.

Getting Matthew Gatorade was a unanimous decision. But Tino grabbed two cartons of milk as well.

"Calcium." He said seriously. "Don't want him breaking any bones on us this season."

Once they bought the food, Berwald and Tino exited the lunchroom and headed to the library where they knew Matthew was hiding out (because he knew Alfred wouldn't be caught dead in a library.)

(Alfred wasn't fond of books. He said they were all fact, no heart.)

"And there's only so many times we can lock him in the janitor's closet."

"B't h'm up?"

"He just bounces back." Tino said, some awe in his voice. "Like one of those bobo dolls."

Berwald nodded in agreement.

"And Matthew says he hates Alfred." The smaller teen paused and glanced up at his boyfriend. "But I think he still cares about him. I mean, Matthew didn't get any closure either did he?"

Berwald shook his head.

"Maybe he should sit down and talk with Alfred?"

Berwald shrugged.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Alfred's head shot up and his expression immediately turned guilty when he saw Arthur standing there, face sour and foot tapping in impatience.

"Nothing."

Arthur's eyes narrowed and the shorter boy suddenly looked far more menacing than anyone holding a copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland _while wearing an argyle sweater vest and polished patent leather Oxfords ever should.

"Oh really." He said calmly, staring evenly at a slightly squirming Alfred. "So, just so I understand. You're standing in front of Matthew's open locker, broken lock in hand, with three dozen weeds—"

"They're dandelions." Alfred said defensively, gripping the bunch tighter.

"—weeds." Arthur glared at the other boy. "And you're not doing anything at all. Is that right?"

"Right-o, ol' chap." The blond replied enthusiastically, leaning next to the open locker with a bright grin.

Arthur looked unamused and unimpressed. "Do you enjoy incurring Matthew's wrath?"

"Well, no." Alfred admitted, fingers brushing gently against the mottled purple splotch on his jaw line. "But it's better than him ignoring me." He looked away, pink dusting his cheeks.

Arthur bit back a groan, knowing full well he couldn't just abandon the other teenager after a confession like that. "Git." The Englishman muttered, running his fingers through his choppy sandy hair with a frown. "You understand that you are to blame for this entire bleeding fiasco, yeah?"

Alfred nodded contritely.

"Well, that's a start." The shorter teen said curtly. "Do you want to know what I think you should do?"

Alfred nodded excitedly, looking too much like an eager puppy.

"Talk to him." Arthur said simply. When the other blond fixed him with a look that clearly asked 'Are you serious? Oh my god you are, aren't you?', he snapped, "What?"

"That idea," Alfred paused here before continuing in an imperious voice, "is _stupid._"

Arthur sputtered angrily. "Y-you said you wanted my thoughts."

"Yeah, but that was before I found out your thoughts were lame." The bespectacled blond shrugged.

"They are not lame, you bastard." Arthur growled, green eyes flashing. "That is how Matthew chooses to solve his problems—through talks. He appreciates well-thought out, fair-minded—"

The Englishman was caught off by the sound of Alfred's laughter. The blue-eyed blond was bent over, clutching his stomach as he laughed. His steel-rimmed glasses teetering on the edge of his nose, threatening to crash to the ground as leaned over further. Leaning heavily against the metal lockers, Alfred tried to calm himself but failed miserably, choosing instead to ride out his laughter while Arthur slowly turned a vibrant shade of red.

When he finally began to calm down, Alfred exhaled noisily and smirked at his best friend. "Matt? Talk out his problems?" He snickered. "Have you _seen_ the guy on the ice? When someone cross checks him, does he pull the other guy aside to scold him? Nah, he fucks that guy up." A fond grin spread across his lips. "Artie, you might think Mattie is a total sweet-heart—and he can be—but he does not talk out his problems with me. He goes on a verbal rampage." Alfred paused, blushing darkly. "He's such a total babe when he's busting my balls."

Arthur rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers sharply in front of Alfred's face when the other's eyes began to glaze over in memory of an enraged Canadian and his mouth went lax, drool threatening to drip out from the corner.

"A-anyways," Alfred said quickly, dragging his hand across his mouth. "Its not so bad being his punching bag."

"…Explain."

"Because if he really didn't care and if he really didn't want me back, he wouldn't even bother to hit me." Alfred said simply. "Besides, he doesn't want to talk to me."

Arthur suddenly realized that both blonds were fairly dysfunctional in some way.

* * *

"I don't want to talk to him." Matthew pouted, violet eyes glaring at Berwald and Tino when the two made their suggestion. "And thank you for the food."

The Canadian was currently lying down on a worn couch in the library, legs thrown over Matthias's lap and head resting on Anders's thigh. The silent teenager ran possessive fingers through Matthew's curling hair.

Anders had taken a strange liking to the Canadian as soon as he had joined the ice hockey team, standing close to the teen and beating back Matthias's more unsavory advances toward the slender blond.

(Fridrik calmly explained that the Norwegian teen had, in a sudden desire to have a brother, had met Matthew on a playground when they were toddlers and tried to convince the other boy to come home with him. Matthew had seriously considered the offer but had gotten distracted by his stuffed polar bear (again) and Anders's mother had called her son back. Matthew forgot the incident. Anders remembered.)

"I think you need closure." Tino said kindly.

"I don't want closure." Matthew sulked. "I want him to suffer like he made me suffer. I spent months blaming myself, trying to figure out what I did to make him not want me anymore." He frowned, becoming quiet. "I still wonder sometimes."

"Do not blame yourself, Matvey." Ivan said sagely, almost no trace of insanity in his eyes. "Jones is an idiot. You can become one with me instead." His mouth curved into a deceptively innocent smile.

Matthew ignored the Russian. "And even though I don't know what ruined everything—even if it was nothing—I know that if he could so easily break off everything, then he probably didn't really care." A soft, melancholy look filled his eyes. "But I know he did care."

No one on the hockey team was really following Matthew's train of thought, but they all nodded in understanding anyways.

"I probably shouldn't still want him, especially if he dumped me for no reason. But I do." Matthew sighed. "But I still want to kick his ass at the same time."

"Underst'ndble." Berwald said quietly.

"Very." Ivan said simply. "I too want to kick his ass. Then I want to shove his face repeatedly against the wall, again and again until his glasses shatter and his nose cracks and his lip splits. Then I want to turn him around and wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze and squeeze and watch his beautifully expressive face as the life slowly drains away and the light in his eyes dim…" Ivan's voice took on a faraway quality as his cold purple eyes became unfocused.

"What the _fuck?" _Matthias asked loudly, blue eyes more than a little horrified. The wild-haired boy glanced around at his shocked teammates. "Why do we keep him on the team?"

"Because he plays good defense." Tino responded, the only one not unnerved by Ivan's statement. "Cake or pie?" He asked Matthew with a soft smile, holding out both desserts expectantly.

"You're definitely Finnish." Matthew murmured, wondering if Ivan was this unhinged back in freshman year. "Oh and cake please."

* * *

"Explain to me, once again, your logic." Arthur asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How will public humiliation win Matthew back?"

"I'm not humiliating him." Alfred said easily. "I just want him to know I miss him."

"And you can't just tell him outright because…?"

"Because that would be gay, Arthur."

"Of course. And you can't just tell him that you only broke up with him because you found out he was moving and thought he would dump you so you decided to do it first so that thought he would come beg for you to take him back and then your relationship would be stronger and then he would not move away?"

"Because then he would straight up murder me."

"And you can't just apologize because…?"

"That," Alfred grinned, "would be too easy and not fun and probably wouldn't be very sincere since my previous gestures have been so awesome."

"And if he runs away again?"

"He won't because I'm not playing Celine Dion this time." Alfred sighed regretfully. "Forgot that he grew out of that phase."

"I will never understand you."

Alfred just grinned and hopped up onto the table, before pulling up his trusty boom box as well. "Ladies and gentlemen!" The blond shouted, stealing the attention of the entire lunchroom. His soccer teammates, who were eating at the table he just jumped onto, glared up at him. "I, Alfred F. Jones, have something to say to Matthew Williams!"

There was silence as everyone looked around in confusion. Finally one brave soul asked, "Who?"

"Him!" Alfred said cheerfully pointing at Matthew who was trying to stand up and surreptitiously run away from where he was sitting between Anders and Ludwig. Instantly every single person turned to look at the wavy-haired blond with interest, pity, and a little bit of annoyance (for garnering Alfred's attention to himself and inadvertently causing the teen to come up with some crazy stunt to disrupt lunch).

"He's cute." Gilbert grinned, winking over at Matthew. Matthew, a little stunned, just stared at the silver-haired boy before glancing over at Alfred. Then, with a fleeting sly smirk at his ex-boyfriend, the hockey player smiled sweetly and gave a short wave, wiggling his fingers flirtatiously. Gilbert's grin widened before it was replaced by a look of anger as Alfred, who witnessed the entire exchange with a tight grin on his face, 'accidently' kicked the albino's entire tray onto the floor with a sheepish "whoops" and a whispered "He's mine you pasty-faced asshole and if you so much as look at him I will run over you with my car and back up to make sure you're dead".

"Douche." Gilbert grumbled, hunching over and consoling himself by stealing Antonio's sandwich.

"Hit it!" Alfred shouted suddenly, throwing his hands up in the air as Arthur grudgingly pressed play on the boom box.

'_Oh whoa oh whoa oh whoa_

_You know you love me, I know you care'_

"Who's the chick who sings this song?" Someone whispered.

"Justin Bieber." Another student answered helpfully.

Matthew blinked before starting to run out of the cafeteria. Immediately, Alfred leapt from the table and sprinted to halt Matthew's escape.

"…baby, baby, baby oh!" He cooed, sky-blue eyes bright as he threw out his arms in front of Matthew. "I thought you'd always be mine~"

"You broke up with me." Matthew hissed, a pink blush on his cheeks as the song continued. "You don't deserve me."

"I made a mistake." Alfred said honestly, the music drowning out his voice to anyone but Matthew.

"This song doesn't even fit—"

"For you I would've done whatever~" Alfred moved forward, wrapping his arms around Matthew and squeezing tightly. "Accept my love!" He shouted even as Matthew began to struggle and curse.

"I hate you!"

"No you don't." Alfred whispered, breath warm against the shell of Matthew's ear. "You want me as much as I want you." He nuzzled the fine strands of the other's hair. "Baby, baby, baby oooh—OW." He shrieked as a large hand gripped his golden locks and another grabbed his elbow harshly and tugged him away from Matthew.

Looking up, Alfred felt his stomach plummet when he saw Berwald's dark glare and Matthias's vicious grin.

But when he chanced a look back at Matthew, Alfred noticed him lightly touching his ear as his lips curved into a tiny smile. The teen's heart soared and he was so far on Cloud 9 that he didn't even notice that the two tall hockey players were dragging him back to the janitor's closet.

* * *

Confused? Here's a hint: Its all one big stupid misunderstanding and Alfred is pretty much to blame. Yeah, so, recap: Matt is not over Alfred. Alfred is not over Matt.

This story is not meant to be serious and it probably won't be. I'm trying something new so all feedback is appreciated. And I apologize for Berwald's fail accent.

Anders: Norway

Fridrik: Iceland

Matthias: Denmark

And cookies to whoever spots the Stephen Colbert reference XD And btw, there will be more song lyrics to come.


	3. Chapter 3

"If I unlock the door now, then you will learn nothing from this experience." Arthur said conversationally, eyeing his bitten fingernails critically.

It really was an awful habit, he noted unhappily, but terribly difficult to quit.

In response he received a rapid succession of heavy thuds against the fake wooden door and a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like either "I can't breathe through the fumes of various toilet cleaners" or "Fuck you".

Arthur just shrugged and shifted against the wall, smiling charmingly at the principal as he marched past. It was most likely the latter, anyways.

"I believe this is also a good time to inform you that I do not approve of your attempts to win back Matthew." The Brit said seriously, crossing his arms. "Matthew may not hate you, but he bloody well is furious with you and he still has yet to know the entire story. And maybe he doesn't want to talk to you, but that also does not mean that you can still humiliate him via song." He paused thoughtfully, "Even if he seems to hold some fondness for you still—though I can't imagine why. He could do much better than _you_."

Furious thudding and some words that sounded like either "For the love of god, let me out" or "Fuck you."

"Don't thud at me, git." He snapped, deciding to ignore whatever was said. "You need to apologize and come clean." When there was no response from Alfred, Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall. "And if you can't do it, then I will."

Ignoring the frantic shouts (either "Have mercy and unlock the door" or "Fuck you", really he couldn't tell which) and banging against the door, Arthur briskly walked away.

* * *

Matthew sighed for the umpteenth time since class began ten minutes ago. The sting of Alfred's earlier Musical Confession Extravaganza could still be felt and it intensified whenever someone glanced at him, pitying smile on his or her face. Next to him, Fridrick wordlessly offered him a piece of licorice and Matthew took it gratefully, popping it into his mouth. On the other side of the Icelandic boy sat Anders, who glanced at him and only looked away when Matthew smiled reassuringly at the stoic boy.

Sucking idly on the piece of candy, Matthew wondered what Alfred would do next and how much longer he could hold out. Honestly speaking, Matthew knew he couldn't keep pushing Alfred away forever. For some reason, way beyond his comprehension and sanity, he still felt something big for Alfred. He tried ignoring it, he tried dating other people, but he couldn't just turn the feeling off.

And he found that incredibly irritating.

If only he knew what possessed Alfred two years ago that made him break off their relationship years ago…

He thought everything was going well. He put up with Alfred's less than adequate boyfriend behavior—the forgotten two month anniversary, always taking him to the same, sub-standard fast food place on their dates (unless Matthew cooked or dragged him somewhere better), the getting them caught by shouting "Whoo! My first blowjob!" when Matthew agreed to give him head backstage during their school production of _Hamlet._

(Surprisingly everyone had bought the excuse that the reason they were both crammed in the prop closet with the Canadian on his knees before Alfred was that Matthew was mending a hole in Alfred's American flag boxers while he was still wearing them.)

(Arthur, though, had nearly murdered them both with his bare hands. Something about violating the sanctity of Shakespeare or something.)

Matthew thought he was a good boyfriend. He put up with Alfred's behavior and recurrent bouts of stupidity (even though he wished the blond American would exhibit some of the genius he displayed with science because seeing Alfred, blue eyes intent on some physics equation, while he gnawed his lower lip in concentration was _sexy_).

He was never demanding. The only time he and Alfred really fought was when Alfred interfered in someone else's busy and that person complained to Matthew or when Alfred forgot he was in a relationship and flirted with some other girl or whenever Alfred did something that Matthew couldn't just ignore (just because he was quiet does not mean he was some timid, meek mouse-boy. He played hockey, damn it. He had his moments too.).

But Alfred had broken up with him.

You don't just break up with someone for no reason, right? Right?

* * *

"Maybe you should just stay out of this." Francis suggested, boredly twirling a strand of hair around his finger while languidly walking beside Arthur.

"I can't just stay out of this." Arthur snapped, trying to speed up his pace so he could lose the other.

"Aww, how cute~" Francis purred, his pace matching the sandy-haired teenager next to him, enjoying the way Arthur's eyebrows twitched as he tried to walk faster. "You do care."

"I do not care." Arthur bit out, scowling. "Its just too bloody difficult to read when that idiot keeps blasting that ridiculous music and weeping like a sodding child and Matthew looks like he wants to die and keeps looking over at me with those teary and accusing eyes like its my fault that dolt can't exert a modicum of self-control—"

"Ohoho. You do have a heart." Francis's eyes grew dark and predatory and his voice grew husky. "_How nice~_"

Arthur froze, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He swallowed roughly, feeling cold terror wash over him. He dared not look at the other blond but he knew the Frenchman was leering at him.

Arthur tried to dash away when a claw-like hand grasped the soft wool of his sweater vest and tugged him back, spicy cologne enveloping him like straitjacket.

He didn't even have time to scream.

* * *

"Matthew."

Said blond turned around immediately, violet eyes widening when he saw Arthur's haggard appearance. The Brit looked vaguely shell-shocked, his crisp white shirt rumpled and unbuttoned scandalously down to his sternum and untucked from his no longer neatly pressed trousers. He was missing one polished patent leather Oxford as well as his sweater vest. One side of his hair was sticking straight up and a neat row of scarlet hickeys began below his jaw line and trailed teasingly down his neck.

"Arthur!" Matthew gasped, reaching out to his cousin who flinched away from the innocent gesture. "What happened?"

"Francis." The other teen whispered, green eyes terrified. "He dragged me into the janitor's closet on the second floor. It was so dark."

Somewhere in the background Matthias snickered, earning a venomous glare from Matthew. The Dane looked somewhat ashamed.

"Maybe you should sit?" Matthew suggested.

"Sit? Sit?" Arthur's face darkened in rage. "I barely made it out with my life, man!" He snarled, grasping Matthew by the shoulders and shaking him none too gently. "I had to sacrifice my sweater vest just to protect my virtue!" He continued to shake the captive blond. "The sweater vest! My virtue! It was compromised, dam—good heavens, Matthew. Where are your trousers?"

Matthew, dazed from the shaking and most definitely caught off guard by the non sequitur, stuttered "W-what?"

"Your trousers." Arthur said impatiently, seeming forgetting his traumatic experience in favor of Matthew's current state of undress. "You are lacking them."

"Umm…" Matthew glanced down, remembering that he had been in the middle of changing for practice when Arthur had entered the locker room. "I was changing—"

"Honestly, Matthew." Arthur continued, as though he hadn't heard a word of what Matthew had just said. "Just because you are somewhat French—being Canadian and whatnot—does not mean that you should indulge that bit of you. Why, be proud for you are of noble, English stock."

"But I was just getting ready for practice—"

"—no need to act like one of those frogs—"

"—let me just find my shorts—"

"—filthy, randy, wine-swilling perverts—"

Matthew, somewhat flustered by the other's raving and unable to find his shorts, sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. And he thought his day couldn't get any worse.

"Here." Ludwig said quietly, handing a pair of long shorts to the shorter boy.

"Thanks, Ludwig." Matthew, eyes wide and grateful, before glancing down. "Um, weren't you wearing these?"

The taller teenager just shrugged, paying no mind to the fact that he was now dressed in only boxers and a white shirt. "I have multiple spares. Feliciano tends to lose his pants at least twice a day." His face darkened as he muttered, "That useless guy…"

"—despicable shirt-lifting poof who accosts good, law-abiding servants of her Majesty and drags him into his den of baguettes and sin—"

"Thanks Ludwig."

The defenseman looked like he wanted to say something but, instead, with a pale blush on his cheeks, settled for patting Matthew awkwardly on the head before turning back to his own locker. The violet-eyed teen just shrugged away the odd behavior of his teammate before beginning to pull on his pads.

"—I'll never be clean again—"

"Um, Arthur. I have practice now, so if you could just tell me why you're here…?" Matthew questioned politely, having finished dressing and now more interested in getting on the ice than listening to his cousin's rant. The rest of the team stood idle in varying degrees of dress, interested in watching the events unfolding.

Arthur looked somewhat caught off guard, blinking slowly as though realizing where he was and why exactly he was there. "Oh, well, of course." He cleared his throat authoritatively and looked at Matthew (making Matthew, who was taller, feel as though he was about two inches tall) with imperial eyes. "This deals with both you and Alfred."

Immediately the temperature in the locker room plummeted, as everyone stilled their movements and glanced over at the pair.

"Oh." Matthew said simply, purple eyes frosting over.

"It has to do with why you two broke up." Here Arthur threw him a pitying look as he clasped the other boy's shoulder gently. "It was never your fault. Alfred is just an idiot."

"Tell us something we don't know!" Matthias shouted before Anders silenced him with a well-placed elbow to his diaphragm.

"He broke up with you because—"

"NOOOOOOO"

Arthur was violently interrupted as a blond blur slammed into him, tackling him to the ground.

"How did he get out?" Tino wondered. "We handcuffed him to the shelves."

(Somewhere the janitor was rushing to repair a shattered shelf and clean up a puddle of cleaning fluids.)

"Artie! How could you?" Alfred wailed, easily pinning down his shorter friend. "Thank Reagan I stopped you before you found Matthew."

Matthew, who had been staring wide-eyed in shock when Alfred bowled the Brit over, slowly darkened with anger at being slighted and being denied the answer to the question he had been mulling over for two years. "I'm. Right. Here. Alfred."

Alfred immediately stopped pushing Arthur's face into the floor and glanced up at Matthew with bright eyes.

"Hey, when'd you get here Mattie?" He asked cheerfully. When Matthew's face reddened in fury, he looked confused. "What'd I say?"

"You dumbass! I've been here the entire time! Pull your head out of your ass for once eh?" The Canadian snapped. A beat, then voice taking on forced politeness, "I mean, you should really pay more attention."

Alfred, eyes wide and mouth agape, just stared at him, taking in rich mulberry eyes and lips pursued in anger. "God, you're so beautiful."

Taken aback, Matthew averted his face, feeling a softer blush spread across his face and almost sighing in relief when he felt a few locks of hair fall to shield his face. Alfred, seeing the other's anger dissolve a little, quickly reached for his pocket and pulled out his iPhone and quickly pressed a few buttons, grinning when Jason Derulo began to spill from its small speakers.

_Everybody's looking for love. Oh oh _

_Ain't that the reason you're at this club. Oh oh_

"Not again." Arthur muttered from where he was still pinned under the heavier weight of Alfred. "This can't possibly end well."

"Looks like big brother's got some work to do." Matthias grinned manically, cracking his neck and knuckles ominously.

Berwald just nodded, knotting his shorts and adjusting his glasses.

"I will help this time, too." Ivan added.

"You want to put on some clothes first?" Matthias asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really." Ivan smiled, not at all concerned about being dressed in only white briefs and his woolen scarf. He just really wanted to see Alfred's face when he grabbed him.

Raivis, whose locker was right next to Ivan's because he drew the shortest straw that season, just shuddered and looked away, trying to ignore and forget the snow-white girth of the terrifying player next to him. He also felt a surge of pity for Alfred; the other boy would probably have nightmares for weeks.

(But then he also thought the teenager deserved it, what with his treatment of Matthew.)

_In my head, I see you all over me. _

_In my head, you fulfill my fantasy. _

"I want to do awful things to you." Alfred said seductively, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously.

"What a coincidence." Matthew responded icily, purposely ignoring the thrill those words ignited in his chest. "I want to do awful things to you. Forget little deaths, Al, you'll get the real thing."

"'nd th'ts 'r cue." Berwald mumbled, stepping forward, flanked by Matthias and Ivan.

* * *

"I don't know what else to do!" Alfred exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the glossy magazines scattered in front of him. "Cosmo has no answers! Vogue is useless! And Seventeen keeps telling me I'm an autumn!"

"I'd say you're more a summer." Feliciano mentioned cheerfully, looking up from his bowl of spaghetti.

"I'd say you're an idiot." Lovino muttered, looking bored as he picked out the tomatoes from his salad. "Actually, I'd say you're both idiots."

"Be nice Lovi!" Antonio cooed in admonishment.

"Bite me."

"I don't know what to do!" Alfred moaned, gripping his hair with his hands, hissing when he accidently clutched the spot where Matthias had grabbed his hair. Again.

"So, if Matthew refuses to take your sorry ass back, he's free game right?" Gilbert asked, trying to appear uninterested even though his crimson eyes were somewhat anxious.

"No!" Alfred snapped, glaring at the albino. "He is off limits for forever times infinity plus infinity!"

"What I'm wondering, is why do you continue to consult this garbage when it failed you once already." Arthur asked while using his fork and butter knife to fend off Francis's amorous advances. "Don't think I've forgotten yesterday, frog."

"You liked it." Francis countered, winking.

"Did not!"

"You did."

"I did not!" Arthur bellowed.

"You d—"

"Shut it you two." Alfred snapped, rapidly flipping through Cosmo for the third time. "Enough foreplay. We'll all look the other way, just kiss already."

"Shut up!" Arthur snapped, shoving Francis away when the Frenchman decided to go ahead with Alfred's suggestion. "And stop reading those things already and tell Matthew the truth!" He smacked Alfred upside the head when he noticed the blond was still reading. "Don't make me tell him myself." He warned.

"But I don't know what else to do!" Alfred whined. "I thought they'd help me be a good boyfriend because everything I did just made Matthew angry and I kept ruining things and he's so wonderful and perfect sidekick material and he'd look fantastic in spandex and I just want him to love me! Why won't he love me?" Alfred wailed, head dropping to the table as he began to cry loudly. "Love meeeee!"

The rest of the boys at the table just continued to eat, pretending not to know the sobbing monstrosity in their midst.


	4. Chapter 4

Whoo! Chapter 4 yo! Last chapter I didn't leave any notes because I had a friend put it up for me while I was out of town. I had to throw in Bieber. I could not resist because 1. I needed a Canadian singer and 2. He had a concert in my city and all I heard was 'OMG BIEBER I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES ASKHDSGHASDKGH'. And from grown women, no less. I think Alfred would only know Canadian singers that made it big in the States. I decided to switch it up with Jasen Derulo because the only other band that kept coming to mind was Nickelback. ...And I couldn't do that...

But thank you to everyone following this story, despite its sheer insanity. You guys rule! I hope this chapter is to your liking~ -crosses fingers-

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia because I don't deserve to.

* * *

"Matthew. Come out of the closet." Tino said kindly, knocking softly on the door.

"I'd say he's already out." Matthias snickered before Anders promptly elbowed him in the diaphragm with a scowl. "Ow—geez! Sorry."

"No!" Matthew shouted from inside the equipment closet. He was sitting cross-legged on a cage of dodge balls, surrounded by bottles of maple syrup. Grabbing one, he carelessly flipped open the lid and took a lengthy sip of the sugary substance. "I refuse to come out until Alfred is dead!"

"I can arrange that." Ivan said cheerfully, not flinching when Tino glared at him in exasperation.

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" The Finnish boy asked, turning his attention away from the unrepentant (and somewhat unhinged) Russian.

"He won't stop until he's dead!" Matthew said, voice bordering on hysterical as he tugged his bottle of syrup closer to him. "And I don't even think he'll stop then." He sniffled, bringing the bottle back to his lips.

"M'ybe y' sh'uld t'lk to 'im?" Berwald suggested. "B' th' w'y, p'dding 'r appl's'uce?"

"Pudding." The Canadian responded automatically. "And I want red Gatorade." He added in a tiny voice. "I also refuse to talk to Alfred."

"G't 't." The tall Swede nodded, turning around and leaving for the cafeteria.

"You're being ridiculous." Tino scolded. "And you're giving Ludwig an ulcer."

"No he's not." The tall blond whispered.

"Be quiet." The Finn snapped in a hushed voice. "I'm guilting him."

Inside the equipment closet, Matthew frowned, feeling guilt claw at his insides. "I'm sorry!"

"If you're really sorry then unlock the door."

"You'll make me go talk to Alfred."

"Just tell him he made his choice and you're over him."

"But I'm not!" Matthew wailed, hugging the bottle closer to him. "I still miss his kisses!" He flopped over, still clutching the bottle. "But I want to see him hit by a car too!"

"I can arrange that too." Ivan repeated.

"He's riding a sugar high." Tino said flatly, hearing the blond sob something about cuddling with Alfred while stargazing and then bludgeoning him to death with a lacrosse stick. "This is your fault Anders. You had to buy him maple syrup in bulk."

The Norwegian looked entirely unapologetic, staring back defiantly at the shorter player before shrugging and walking off (leaving Tino to stare in confusion and rapidly increasing anger at the retreating blond's back).

The remaining team members slowly backed away as the color in the fair-haired teen's cheeks darkened.

There was a reason he was called the White Death.

* * *

"You."

Arthur looked up, visibly annoyed at being interrupted just as Pip was discovering that the old convict was his mysterious benefactor. "What?" He growled, prominent eyebrows bristling as he glared at the newcomer.

Anders looked completely unimpressed, staring back with emotionless blue eyes. "You know why that moron broke up with Matthew."

"Um, well, yes—"

Anders' face seemed to darken. "You're coming with me. Now." He said lowly, dragging Arthur up by his starched collar.

* * *

When Anders returned, Arthur in tow, Tino was spewing rapid Finnish curses at the rest of the team while Berwald tried to convince Matthew that, no, Tino was not angry at him and that could he please open the door because his cream of mushroom soup was getting cold?

"G't th' r'd G'tor'de." He said cajolingly. "'nd p'dding."

Wordlessly, Anders took the tray from the tall hockey player and rapped on the door. "Matthew. Open the door for big brother." He paused. "And stupid Arthur."

There was a moment of silence, before the door unlocked and Anders kicked Arthur in before entering and pulling the door shut behind him.

"Good heavens, Matthew." Arthur gasped, staring in shock at his cousin who, for lack of a better word, looked like shit (but at least he smelled like maple syrup). He pulled out his embroidered handkerchief and licked it, before beginning to scrub furiously at the other's cheeks. "Have you been drinking syrup again?"

"Fuck you." Matthew grumbled, swatting away the sandy-haired teen's hands. He reached for the pudding cup but Anders slapped his hand.

"Soup first."

Pouting, Matthew took the bowl of soup and blew on it gently. "I hope Arthur is here to finish telling me what he started yesterday." He glared at the other teen. "Before he forgot."

"Between getting tackled by that idiot and getting ambushed again in the parking lot by a French twit, it was rather difficult to remember." Arthur said rather snidely before flinching as Anders raised his hand threateningly.

"Talk." The Norwegian teen ordered.

Arthur sighed. "Now, I should've told you a long time ago Matthew." He said apologetically as Matthew narrowed his eyes and slurped his soup. "Alfred only broke up with you because he was afraid you'd dump him first and he wanted you to realize how much you love him and come beg him to take you back." He paused, shuffling awkwardly. "He read it in a magazine that claimed doing so would strengthen your relationship." He glanced hesitantly at Matthew who was paused in mid-slurp.

Even Anders seemed to be visibly shocked. "What a moron…"

Matthew was unsettlingly silent so Arthur pushed on, unmindful of the rising tempest in his cousin's chest.

"He didn't want to but he thought it would be for the best. Believe me when I say he still loves you. And in his defense—"

"Don't you _dare._" Matthew interjected coldly, violet eyes blazing. His hands were trembling in quietly restrained rage. "Don't you dare try to defend him in front of me Arthur."

"Matthew—" Arthur started, before he dove to the side to narrowly avoid being struck by the bowl of soup. He winced as the bowl slammed into the wall before clattering to the floor. He looked up at Matthew who was red with rage.

"I'm going to kill him."

"No—"

"Do you have any idea how I've suffered for the past two years!" Matthew snapped, hands curling into fists. "I've been replaying that damn moment in my mind day after day! Every single detail down to where that stupid milkshake was from!"

Arthur winced, remembering the cold breakup. He had told off Alfred (loudly and violently).

("But I was only drinking the milkshake so I wouldn't throw myself at his feet and ruin everything!" Alfred had whined. "I didn't mean to come across as a douche!")

(The times Alfred is a huge douchebag are the times that he is trying his hardest not to be.)

"Medium strawberry milkshake from McDonalds." The blond snarled. "I've been blaming myself and going over every little thing I did trying to figure out where _I _went wrong! And this entire time it was based on a stupid idea he got from a magazine? A magazine?"

"He didn't know what else to do." Arthur argued weakly. "He wanted to please you."

"He didn't have to do anything!" Matthew cried, throwing his hands up. "I loved him!"

"He regrets what he did. He never forgot about you."

"Until he saw the hot girl in shorts right?" Matthew snorted, remembering his first day back.

"He still loves you Matthew!" Arthur said firmly, not really realizing that his defense of Alfred was just pissing the other blond off further.

"And, I," The Canadian laughed bitterly. "still love him. I couldn't even have a steady relationship because I kept thinking of his stupid goofy smile and his dimples and perfectly our hands fit together." The blond shook his head. "But you know what? Now I think my hatred of him was justified."

"Matt—"

"Do you know how messed up it is to love someone you're supposed to hate? Hate someone and still fall asleep thinking about them?"

"Its—"

"Don't answer that." The violet-eyed boy muttered before appraising the Brit with critical eyes. "And what about you Arthur?"

The green-eyed teen looked taken aback. "Wha…?"

"You knew this entire time and didn't tell me." Matthew was looking at him coldly. "How long did you know?"

Instantly, Arthur's face reddened in shame and he looked away, thoroughly embarrassed.

Matthew knew the answer, even when his cousin stayed silent.

"I never expected you to hide something like this from me. I know he's your best friend, but we're family. You _knew_ and just stood by and let this happen."

"I only found out later." Arthur said defensively. "And I wanted to tell you. I tried—"

"You should've tried every single day." Matthew snapped, trembling slightly. He could feel tears burning in his eyes.

Arthur looked at his feet.

"You know, you're not the best cousin." He said quietly. "You once drove over my foot because you didn't see me in the driveway. You once got me kicked out of our yearly family reunion because you forgot we were related. And you used me as your taste tester when we were children." Matthew's voice was low and icy but his eyes glistened. "You beat up Francis when he tried to grope me. We bathed together until puberty." He shook his head in disgust and pushed past the berated teenager. "You're worse than Alfred."

Arthur felt like an arse. He didn't even put up a fight when the rest of the team strolled in and Matthias hoisted him over his shoulder.

He deserved far worse than a stint in the janitor's supply closet.

* * *

When Alfred sees Matthew stride towards him, violet eyes steely. He, in a perfect example of being completely unable to read the atmosphere, shoots to his feet and holds his arms out wide.

"Mattie!" He smiled widely, blue eyes guileless as he watches his ex-boyfriend approach. "Does this mean you forgive me?"

When Matthew grabs the front of his shirt, Alfred begins to quickly realize that Matthew does not forgive him. Not at all.

Alfred doesn't even have time to scream.

* * *

Matthew is suspended for a week.

* * *

One reason Alfred's parents refuse to press charges is because Mrs. Jones believes her son deserved the ass kicking.

"This is why you can't have nice things!" She scolded, glaring down at her teenage son with her hands cemented to her hips.

"I just wanted a pretty son-in-law." Her husband sniffed wistfully. He had been the biggest supporter of Alfred dating Matthew.

"Its okay dear." Mrs. Jones cooed, patting her distraught husband's hand lovingly. She turned a glare on her son. "Alfred will fix this and finally we can get back to planning Matthew's dream wedding."

Alfred, nursing a black eye and sprained wrist, just studied his Captain America comforter with thoughtful eyes as his parents walked out of his room.

Minor setback. He'd just have to try harder to win Matthew back.

It might just be a little harder this time.

* * *

The first thing Arthur does the next day is gather up Alfred's collection of girly magazines is burn them, content that at least Alfred wouldn't be able to use them for advice anymore.

He and the entire team roast marshmallows after a successful practice.

Out of quiet kindness for their incapacitated teammate, on their way back to the locker room, none of the players said that practice was successful because Alfred was absent.

(Even if it was true, as Lovino stated later to Alfred's face.)

* * *

When Matthew returns to school, every single student gives him wide berth in the hallway. The previously invisible blond is now the most talked about guy in school.

And he expresses his surprise to his teammates as he walks down the hallway and murmurs break out as he walks by, nibbling cinnamon roll (courtesy of Berwald).

"Just soak it up, Matt." Matthias grinned, trying to wrap an arm around the shorter teen's shoulder. "Smile and wave."

Anders just glares at him and pulls Matthew closer to him much to the Dane's displeasure.

"Yeah, no." Matthew said flatly, somewhat amused when a group of girls begin to blush and twitter when he glances over at them. One of them waves flirtatiously to him and he flushes.

"It was pretty sexy to see you throw Alfred over the table." Fridrik says quietly.

"You're my hero." Raivis whispered with reverence.

"My favorite part was when Jones landed on his face." Ivan added casually. "I believe I became semi-erect."

Unfortunately everyone knew that. That was pretty awkward.

"I bet you could club a baby seal to death with that thing." Matthias said thoughtfully, earning a look of disgust from his teammates.

"Why are you still thinking about that?" Ludwig asked, almost afraid to find out.

"You would win that bet, my friend." The Russian said with a benevolent smile. "Warmest hat I own."

The rest of the team stopped in horror. They stared at the pale-haired teen as he walked away.

There was a beat of silence before Matthias spoke.

"No, seriously, why do we keep him around?"

* * *

When Alfred sees Matthew again after their little tiff—

"Tiff?" Arthur repeated incredulously. "That was not a tiff, you buffoon."

"Lover's spat, then." Alfred had said dismissively.

"He beat you senseless." Francis interrupted, a gleeful smirk on his face.

"Look." The blond American snapped. "He and I will get past this."

The soccer team, which was sitting at the same table, burst into laughter.

"How many times does Matt need to beat you down before you back down?" Gilbert smirked viciously. "Just let me have him~"

"Go die in a ditch!" Alfred snarled, preparing to leap over the table and show the albino what for before Arthur tugged him down roughly.

"Enough, Alfred." Arthur said tiredly. "Just leave Matthew be. We've done enough to hurt the poor bloke." He glared at Alfred with narrow green eyes. "Just accept its over for good."

Alfred looked shocked. "It can't be! I'm so close to winning him back!"

"Clearly, your definition of close is different from ours." Arthur muttered.

-Needless to say, Alfred still felt a frisson of desire and love.

* * *

"Why did you even date him in the first place?" Tino asked curiously, opening a bag of potato chips and squirting a dollop of maple syrup on each as he passed it over to the teen. Secretly, he wondered what Matthew ever saw in the other blond and even bothered to give him a chance.

Matthew eyed the potato chip keenly, violet eyes locked on the treat. "Tino. Are you trying to sugar me up for some answers?"

Tino glanced guiltily at Berwald who merely kept a straight face (not that it was difficult for him, honestly).

"'s 't w'rkin'?"

"Yes." The Canadian chirped, snagging the chip and throwing it in his mouth.

"That's kinda gross." Matthias whispered loudly.

"Not really." Fridrik pointed out.

"Not to you." The taller boy sighed. "You eat rotten shark."

"If you really must know, he blinded me with science." Matthew said finally, eyeing the rest of the chips.

"Um…?"

"He's actually quite brilliant." The violet-eyed boy said off-handedly. He was quietly resigned to the fact that, even when he was Incredible Pissed Off, he couldn't just bash Alfred if it involved lying. "We were lab partners in biology. He refused to dissect the frog." He smiled a bit nostalgically. "It was then I realized he wasn't a brainless jock. When he tutored me for our midterm, somewhere between him quizzing me on the nervous system and offering to go play fetch with my dog, Kumanji, so I could finish my doodle of a guillotine decapitating our teacher, I realized…" He trailed off, a distant look in his eyes. Suddenly, snapping out of his daydreams, Matthew frowned darkly and grabbed the syrupy chip Tino was holding out.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter now."

_

* * *

Dear I fear we're facing a problem_

_You love me no longer, I know_

Matthew froze, one hand on his open locker door as the music enveloped him, enticing him to turn around. Slowly he looked back.

Alfred stood there, earnest blue eyes (and a vivid shiner that Matthew remembered giving him in stunning clarity), holding his trusty boom box with both hands, a rueful expression on his face.

When his heart fluttered at the honesty in the other's face, he couldn't help it but shove it away and hate himself (and the idiot across from him) a little more.

"Arthur told you everything." He said softly, lowering his eyes. "Mattie, if you'd just let me—"

"You have some nerve." Matthew broke in, voice cold. He clenched his jaw, leveling a glare at the other. "You—"

_So I cry and I pray and I beg_

"I'm sorry!"

"Me too." Shaking his head, Matthew shut his locker and turned away, the upbeat melody shadowing him all the way down the hallway, Alfred's sad gaze burning on his back. He tried to ignore both resolutely.

_Love me love me_

_Say that you love me_

* * *

"I don't condone this."

"I don't condone mixing plaid and argyle but some people refuse to listen to sense."

"…I was talking more about Alfred continuing this stupidity." Arthur scowled, before adding. "And that look is timeless."

"No, not its not!" Lovino shouted, idly playing keep away with Feliciano while Antonio tried to steal the ball.

"Ve~ Lovi is right!" Feliciano sang cheerfully, neatly swiping the ball away from Antonio's near lunge for it.

"I don't understand why I want to hump you." Francis shrugged helplessly. "I refused to even kiss that pretty redhead because her shoes were last season." He glared accusingly at the Brit. "And yet I want to lick your eyebrows and **** your *** and put éclairs in your—"

"Not during practice Francis!" Gilbert shrieked, throwing his goalie gloves at his friend.

Arthur had already put several meters of distance between him and the sexually frustrated Frenchman before the gloves even made contact with Francis's head.

* * *

"Arthur. I need your help."

"No."

"You haven't even heard me out yet!" Alfred whined, stomping his foot and earning a glare from the elderly librarian.

"Does it involve Matthew in any way?"

"Well, duh!"

"Oh well that changes nothing." Arthur snapped. "He's already furious at me and I'm fairly certain he'll try to drown me at the next family reunion."

"Well, you do deserve it."

The glare Arthur gave to Alfred was pure venom. "I hope he kills you this time."

"Look, Artie." Alfred pulled out a chair and slid into, staring at his best friend with serious eyes. "Believe me when I say that this entire _thing_" he made a vague gesture by waving his hands in front of his face, "is fixable. I can fix it but I need your help."

"No." the sandy-haired boy snapped, reopening his book and trying to engross himself in the exploits of Sherlock Holmes.

"But if this plan works like I'm 99% sure Mattie will forgive you."

"Not 100?"

"Probability. I am almost sure this will work."

"I am not reassured."

Alfred scowled at him, eyes glinting dangerously behind his glasses. "Look, Artie, ole pal, dear friend of mine." He leaned forward, voice low. "You're going to help me or I swear on my indomitable American spirit I will slather you in garlic butter, stuff you in a giant plastic snail shell—which I have already ordered from this guy on CraigsList—naked, and leave you on Frenchie's doorstep.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

The smile on Alfred's face was downright manic. "Love makes people do crazy things."

* * *

Epicness-of-Fail suggested Lovefool and I was like "Hells yeah" so I put it in. Now, I have to say, a lot of people agree that Alfred is an idiot and feel pity for Matthew. And, no, you won't find out that Matthew did anything wrong. It as all Alfred. What Matt is doing wrong, is that he's refusing to talk to Alfred but he's talking with others. I want to ask, though, how many people genuinely feel that Matthew should give Alfred a second chance? They both still care for each other, despite what happened.

Does Alfred deserve Matthew, even after everything?


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Three Days Grace.

* * *

"Hey, Kiku? Do you think I should leave Mattie alone?" Alfred asked off-handedly as he meticulously measured hydrochloric acid into a beaker.

His lab partner glanced over at him, attention drifting away from the clipboard he held. The Japanese boy held back a sigh. He had known that at some point the blond would've brought up the object of his obsession at some point in front of him.

Almost wistfully, he took in the sight of their unfinished experiment. For the last week, Alfred had skipped out on working on it, far more interested in wooing his ex-boyfriend.

Not that Kiku was bitter. Of course not. He understood that love turned fools into even greater fools.

Ah to be young again.

"It is not my place to comment, Alfred-san." The dark-haired boy began delicately. "But perhaps you are being a bit over-zealous in your attempts?"

Alfred just stared at him, blue eyes freakishly magnified by his safety goggles. His white coat was rolled up to his elbows and there was a smudge of some precipitate on his cheek from where their last chemical reaction had literally exploded in his face.

Kiku, concerned and a little uneasy, had suggested that Alfred clean up. But the American had just laughed, waving his hand to dispel the snowy fog that had settled around him.

"…Over-zealous?" Alfred asked, voice thoughtful as though the words had never come to mind. And, really, they hadn't. But when Arthur chose potential molestation at the hands of Francis that assist him in his final plan, the American wondered briefly if maybe he was doing something wrong.

Kiku wondered if he should mention catching a glimpse of a distraught Matthew wailing into one of his hockey teammate's shoulders after the Bieber Incident.

But then he realized that Alfred would probably be more concerned about whose shoulder Matthew was wailing into.

So instead he decided to say, "Alfred-san, the beaker is overflowing."

The American blinked slowly and looked down at the solution that was dripping over his fingers before yelping loudly and jerking his hand, sending the instrument to the floor where it shattered on impact.

"Oh sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" He shrieked, running over to the sink and sticking his hand under the running water.

Kiku sighed, resigned to the fact that his lab partner would be completely useless until he resolved whatever conflict he had with his former boyfriend.

Then he set about cleaning the spilled acid. "At least it was diluted." He said in an attempt to comfort the sniffling blond.

"Yeah…" Alfred mumbled. "You're…" He trailed off, gaze focused on some point outside the window in the chemistry lab.

"Alfred-san?" Kiku asked politely, eyes following Alfred's gaze.

Matthew Williams stood with Ludwig's brother, smiling a bit as the white-haired boy recounted some story, arms waving wildly in the air and a huge grin on his face.

Their laughter trickled into the lab.

Kiku looked back over in his lab partner, hoping to any god that was listening that Alfred wouldn't proceed to demolish the lab out of fury.

Instead the blond boy watched the scene quietly, something hardening in his face as a determined glint sparked in his eyes.

"Or maybe not over-zealous enough." He chortled. "Oh Matthew. You will be mine."

* * *

Matthew smiled politely, nodding his head as Gilbert continued to crow about the awesome save he made at the last soccer game.

"It was awesome!"

"I wish I could've seen it." The Canadian said quietly, wondering how he could ditch his newfound shadow.

Gilbert's face lit up even more. "I have tapes!"

Oh sweet Trudeau. Matthew bit back the urge to whimper. Even Alfred wasn't this bad after a victory.

Gilbert had transferred after Matthew moved and, as a result, the blond had no idea what the other teen was like when he sauntered up to him on the quad and struck up a conversation.

And then he never left.

"Maybe another time?" The violet-boy suggested weakly, praying that he could just get away. Gilbert was sexy, no denying. But he had no sense of when to keep quiet.

At least Alfred knew when to shut up.

No! Bad Matthew! The Canadian shook his head roughly, brow furrowing as memories of Alfred flooded his mind.

Alfred wrapping his beloved bomber jacket around Matthew's shoulders during halftime when the wind picked during his soccer game.

Alfred dragging him out of bed at midnight to watch the meteor shower at the park.

Alfred spinning him around in the puddles as the summer storm raged around them, drenching their clothes and their hair, as they laughed and tempted the rain to fall faster.

Alfred grabbing his face with sweaty palms and pressing hesitant lips against his, before pulling away, blue eyes terrified and hopeful.

Alfred staring at him mournfully, boom box in hand, as Matthew walked away from him.

Droning out Gilbert's chatter, he tried to conjure up memories of Alfred dumping him, voice cavalier and eyes flat. He tried to think of the other's retreating back, of ears deaf to his pleas and questions. He tried to recount all the dates at greasy fast food joints and all the times Alfred flirted with a pretty girl.

But instead he remembered Alfred dabbing his hamburger with a handful of napkins to soak up extra grease, a sheepish smile on his face as he darted back up to the counter to order extra fries for Matthew.

He remembered confronting Alfred mid-flirt, violet eyes enraged. Alfred had just glanced at him before glancing back at the girl before dismissing her entirely and facing Matthew. Then with a bright grin, announcing, "Yeah, you're still way hotter than any chick."

"Hey, are you listening to me, Matt?" Gilbert's voice cut in.

Maybe he should've heard Alfred out.

* * *

"Excuse me, but you're Matthew Williams, yes?"

Matthew glanced away from his book, looking up and seeing a tanned boy with a bright grin on his face. "Um, yes, I am."

The teen's grin widened and his green eyes glimmered strangely. "Good~ I finally found you." He tutted. "You're a difficult guy to find, my friend."

Matthew stared at the teen strangely before sitting up, reluctantly leaving Anders's thigh that he had been using as a pillow.

It wasn't really his choice. His teammates were very touchy-feely guys.

"Can I help you with something?" He prompted quietly, an inquisitive frown on his face.

The teenager blinked in confusion before a smile broke across his face. "Oh, right! I almost forgot." He chuckled. "I'm supposed to tell you that Alfred is on the roof and he plans to jump because you won't love him back." He pauses thoughtfully. "And…No, wait, that was all."

Matthew looked horrified.

Damn it Alfred.

Wordlessly, the blond shot to his feet and sprinted away, intent on making it to the roof and stopping this foolishness before Alfred actually jumped to his doom.

Sure he said he wanted Alfred to die and broke open his piggy bank to hire an assassin, but now that the event was becoming a terrifying reality…

He swallowed roughly, heart clenching painfully, pushing himself to run faster.

* * *

"Don'tdoitAlfredI'mnotworthit!" He shrieked, pushing through the metal door and sliding to a halt on the rooftop. He panted, searching wildly for the other blond.

And there was Alfred…nowhere near the edge of the roof.

"Hey Mattie." The other teenager smiled guiltily, toeing the roof with his sneaker bashfully.

The Canadian just stared at him dumbly, gaze sliding over to take in the tiny round table next to Alfred, laden with covered plates and bottles of Gatorade.

He was silent, brain blissfully blank. Then it all clicked. "You…tricked me?"

Instantly Alfred's expression turned fearful. "Let me explain—"

* * *

"Do you think this plan will really work?" Tino fretted, leaning back against Berwald's solid chest.

"I hope not." Gilbert said moodily. "I hope that bastard just jumps."

Ludwig sighed next to him. "Brother…"

"Matthew and I had a real connection, Luddy!"

"Even if they don't get back together, at least they'll finally be able to talk." Fridrick noted quietly.

"He doesn't deserve him." Matthias muttered, Anders nodding in agreement.

"Amen to that brother!" Gilbert shouted much to Ludwig's pain.

"Maybe they'll find some closure." Antonio added.

"And maybe we can finally get a real practice in." Lovino added with a scowl. "Without that idiot bursting into tears."

"And we won't have to coax Matthew out of the equipment room with syrup."

"'es all gr'wn 'p." Berwald added, eyes a little damp. Tino patted his hand lovingly.

"We knew this day would come." The Finn said comfortingly. "We can't protect him forever."

Anders coughed loudly, glaring pointedly at the smaller player.

"Maybe Anders can." Tino amended. "But its time for Matthew to be a grown up." His eyes became misty.

Ivan, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke up. "Surely you all realize that once little Matvey realizes he's been tricked, he's going to throw Jones off the roof himself, yes?"

Both teams quieted, exchanging nervous looks.

Then each boy shot to his feet and ran out to the front of the school.

* * *

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Alfred shouted, arching his body away from the edge and pushing back against Matthew. His blue eyes were wide, focused on the distance to the ground. The wind ruffled his blond hair lovingly, inviting him to plummet to the ground.

Sure the fall wouldn't be enough to kill him—he calculated it himself and had Kiku check his math—but it would hurt like a bitch.

Matthew's face was stony, even as he continued to manhandle Alfred forwards.

"I'm so sorry Mattie! Please believe me!" Alfred pleaded, voice shrill. "But if I thought there was any other way to get you alone with me I would've done it!" He closed his eyes, heart pounding. "I don't want to hurt you anymore, please Matthew!"

Matthew's grip on him lessened before the slighter blond let go and Alfred collapsed to his knees, the adrenaline still coursing through him.

"Hehe." He grinned breathlessly. "I thought you were actually going to throw me off for a second there."

"I was." Matthew snapped, stepping away and tucking a curling strand of hair behind his ear. "I'll still do it too."

When he realized that Alfred was in no danger of jumping, his heart had nearly burst in relief.

Only to swell with rage when he realized that Alfred had no intention of ending his life.

Alfred just chuckled, looking up with soft eyes. "I am sorry, you know. For everything."

Matthew said nothing, choosing instead to look away. With a sigh, he stepped back a little, suddenly realizing that he and Alfred were one misstep from becoming splatters of teenager on the asphalt (cutting it close, again, eh Matt?).

Alfred, misunderstanding the movement, dove forward and grabbed Matthew's leg, wrapping himself around the limb desperately. "No, don't run away again!" He wailed, rubbing his face against Matthew's hip, mouth dangerously close to the other's crotch.

Matthew's face reddened. "I-I wasn't…!"

"I know I made a mistake." Alfred pleaded, arms tightening around Matthew's leg. "I've done a lot of stupid things, but that was the stupidest. And I really do regret it." The American's voice quieted. "You might not think so, but I never stopped caring."

Matthew sighed, feeling some of the residual rage he had from the other day drift away. The fact that Alfred was still trying was proof that he cared.

"I believe you, Alfred."

"Do you?" Alfred asked, looking up, sky blue eyes impossibly wide. "Because I'm willing to completely debase myself—publically, if you want—just to convince you."

Matthew blanched. "No, no. I do believe you." He was a little afraid of just how much further Alfred could and would go.

The two were silent for a moment. Alfred traced idly designs on the back of Matthew's knee as the other boy just stared off into space.

"Why'd you do it?" Matthew asked, no longer content to let the question burn in his gut.

"I thought Arthur—"

"I want to hear it from you."

Alfred sighed, hearing no room for argument in Matthew's voice. "I overheard you telling him that your parents were moving back to Canada. I thought you would leave me behind." His voice was soft, unlike the boisterous tone he usually used. "I thought you didn't like me anymore."

"Why would you think that?" Matthew asked softly.

"You started to get angry more often." Alfred shrugged. "I didn't know what else to do. I started reading those magazines for ideas. Since we both like animals, I thought you'd enjoy other things I liked. But you didn't seem to enjoy hamburgers at all. Then I thought I'd try to make you jealous so you'd realize how much I mean to you, but that made you angry too." He was silent. "In retrospect, that was pretty stupid to begin with."

Matthew felt the beginnings of guilt claw at his chest. And he thought he was completely blameless...

"I remembered reading that sometimes boyfriends just need to be reminded how much a relationship meant to them. I was afraid you'd dump me before leaving and I was desperate." He laughed lowly, self-deprecatingly. "I actually thought that you'd beg me to take you back and that you'd stay here instead of going back to Canada." He pouted then, releasing his hold on Matthew. "What's so great about that place anyways?"

Matthew felt a surge of something for Alfred, then, coupled with pity. "Oh Al…" He whispered, kneeling next to the depressed boy and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Alfred was still for a moment before returning the gesture, pulling Matthew close.

"Pushing you away is one of my biggest regrets." The louder blond admitted.

Matthew was quiet, detaching himself from the other without saying a word. Licking his lips, he met Al's expectant gaze. "I was absolutely miserable these past two years. I was angry, at first. I hated you so much. I thought I'd be better off and I tried to get past you." He said honestly. "I dated other people. There was this one guy—Miguel, he was Cuban. And he was so sweet. He bought me ice cream and remembered to go to all my hockey games and he was an amazing kisser. Yes, even better than you." Matthew said sharply, seeing Alfred's mouth open. "Don't interrupt."

Alfred shut his mouth obediently, resembling a scolded puppy.

"And he was wonderful. But all I could think about was you." Matthew glared. "You're like a virus or bacteria-thing. You infect. And there's no cure."

Alfred smiled guiltily.

"I missed you too." Matthew said.

"There's a 'but' somewhere, I know it." Alfred groaned.

Matthew pushed the other's shoulder roughly. "But, what you did really hurt me. I was ready to just off myself at one point."

"I'm sorry."

Matthew shook his head. "I can't just forgive you and jump back into your arms."

"Why not?" Alfred actually looked insulted.

"Alfred. Even if we got back together, right this moment, we'd just break up again." Matthew said patiently.

Alfred stared at him.

"Think about it. You turned to those stupid magazines because you thought I was upset with you. You never asked me yourself. And I never told you how much your actions upset me." Matthew explained, frowning in annoyance at the other blond's blank look. "Okay, this is why no one believes me when I say you're smart."

Alfred scowled, crossing his arms. "I'm a motherfuckin' genius."

"Of course you are." Matthew said indulgently, patting the other's arm. "But Al, seriously. Our relationship lacked communication."

"Says who?"

"My mother." Matthew admitted with a blush. Yes, he had run home and told his mother the other day. "I mean, we decided to date after hooking up on your couch for the third time."

Alfred's eyes glazed over as he remembered those times. Oh, those were _great_ times.

But, as Matthew's words hit home, Alfred couldn't help but agree. "You know, Arthur said the same thing this morning when I left him on Francis's porch."

"Oh rea—wait what?"

"Yeah, he even suggested I add the whole lunch on a rooftop thing so we could try to get to know each other better." Alfred paused. "Our likes and dislikes, not just what the insides of our mouths are like."

"Oh that's nice." Matthew added. "But why did you leave Arthur on Francis's porch."

At that a scarlet flush rose on Alfred's cheeks. ".."

Matthew stared at him incredulously. "You threatened my cousin and then left him at Francis's mercy because he refused to help you with your latest scheme?"

"Um, yes?" Alfred seemed to shrink in on himself. "Please don't kill me."

Violet eyes regarded him in anger for a moment before Matthew's face softened. "Arthur refused to help you at the risk of being raped just to keep me from being humiliated?"

"You weren't going to be humiliated." Alfred grumbled. "Stupid jerk wouldn't even listen to my plan."

The smile that crossed Matthew's face was breathtaking. "He does care." He said softly, incredibly touched by Arthur's selflessness. "Now I won't have to drown him." Then his face turned concerned. "I hope Francis is gentle with him."

Alfred said nothing, secretly hoping that Arthur wouldn't murder him later for leaving him at the mercy of Francis's perversions (again, not his best plan and maybe he wouldn't have gone through with it but Arthur seemed to be convinced that Alfred wouldn't dare.) reaching into his pocket for his iPod. "So..." He started, looking at Matthew nervously. "Is Easy Mac okay? Its kinda the height of my culinary skills."

Matthew laughed, standing up and dusting off his jeans. "It sounds great, Al."

A brilliant smile spread across Alfred's face at the familiar nickname and he subtly pressed a button on his iPod.

_I always knew that you would come back to get me_

_And you always knew that it wouldn't be easy_

Matthew shook his head, pale blond hair falling into his face as he threw an exasperated look at Alfred. "Don't push your luck, Al."

* * *

Arthur sighed, thoroughly uncomfortable and reeking of garlic. The snail shell was incredibly uncomfortable and not at all ideal to shove one's arse into.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all day?" He asked dryly, green eyes unamused.

Francis just stared at him, azure eyes wide. The Frenchman had opened his door that morning and saw Arthur and had gleefully dragged him inside the house.

But since then, the amorous blond had just sat in a chair and stared at the tied up Brit with vague confusion in his eyes.

"Look, wanker, just go on and have your wicked way with me." Arthur snapped. "This is bloody uncomfortable."

Francis frowned, tapping his knee idly. "To be honest, _cher_, I'm at a bit of a loss. While I have many things I'd like to do with you, I've never actually had you completely at my mercy." He groaned, throwing a hand over his face. "I never planned this far."

Arthur just stared at him. "Bollocks."

"No, truly." Francis gestured helplessly. "This is all very new to me."

Arthur just sighed, wondering if he should be annoyed or grateful.

* * *

Oh goodness. This was becoming very long so I ended it. It was supposed to finish this chapter but there looks like there will be one more, an epilogue of sorts. Finally, Matt and Al talk it out. Heh, kudos to people who pointed out that now Matt is being a doucherocket by not listening to Alfred. And, yeah, I think you all know where this is going. But I hope that doesn't discourage or dissuade people from continuing. Thanks to everyone following this. You all rock!

Yes, back to Canadian bands. Three Days Grace. Yes, that counts right?


End file.
